In the first-century world of masters and servants, the terminology of servanthood was not only understandable but relatable. However, in today’s world the word “servant” leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth. We think of serving an organization like a church, sure. Serving a dish for a party, perfectly acceptable. Even the title “server” as a possible occupation. But to serve someone else, a specific person with a name and face, for no reimbursement of our time and efforts, leaves us uncomfortable (there’s of course the atrocious history of America to be dealt with as well). And then bring the word into the realm of relationship with God and it suddenly feels culty or oppressive. No one preaches, at least fruitfully, “come and be a servant.” It’s not exactly the most inviting type of declaration. And yet, servanthood is somehow an integral part of the Christian world — the world of done not “do”.
The tragic and dark tale M. Night Shyamalan and his team have woven in Servant on Apple Plus explores this theme among others (there are numerous articles which could be written about this show from all different angles — Psychology Today would have a field day). And I know what you’re thinking: the man has failed us before and perhaps even owes some of us a matinee fee (or for the true victims, a solid $12.75 and their Friday night). But Shyamalan doesn’t fail us here. In fact, he presents an image of what it can sometimes look like to be a servant, and more specifically a servant of God.
It’s a rather depressing show, at least in the first season, when you realize the plot is about a family going through one the most traumatic things possible: losing a baby. And even worse than that: losing a baby to one’s own failings. The baby tragically loses his life under the care of Dorothy, the mother. Sean, the husband, was out of town filming a television show and her brother, Julian, was on a cocaine bender with a desperate voicemail from an exhausted Dorothy asking for help sitting on his phone. Without spoiling too much, I’ll leave it at Dorothy’s exhaustion got the better of her.
In order to deal with such a traumatic event, Dorothy’s brain wipes the memory of any of the tragedy and instead she’s given a doll by a psychiatrist to pretend normalcy and slowly ease her into the reality of the situation. But when a previously hired nanny, who happens to have a past in a seriously troubling cult, shows up to help the family, the baby is suddenly alive again. She’s fled a group called the Church of the Lesser Saints. They of course require perfection — extremely heavy-handed with the law. So much so that Leanne whips herself for impure thoughts and out-of-line behavior. There are all sorts of facets of this cult explored in the show, some of which are highly worrisome and yet, uniquely interesting.
While this is taken to extreme proportions, it is a picture of what people do to themselves mentally and spiritually when attempting to be a proper servant of God — or better yet, servant of the Law. It may not be actual whip-to-flesh lashings, but words-to-brain can feel quite similar if not just as scaring as blood bleeding — whether to one’s self or others. This pressure to adhere to a master’s demands is unbearable and unsustainable. And for Leanne, eventually causes her to rebel in defiance. It’s only natural and explains why a fair number of young children who grew up under oppressive religious parents end up rebelling once they gain a bit of independence. It’s all the more unfortunate when one realizes it’s a case of mistaken identity. The servant has misunderstood the master they serve.
Servant, aside from Leanne and her cultic past, also explores a marriage. Sean and Dorothy are attempting to cope with the loss, each in their own way. And as Dorothy’s world crumbles, Sean is there to pick up the pieces and try to build it back together. Even after the grave mistake she’s made with their son, he is willing to do anything and everything for her. There’s this unconditional, and frankly, sometimes downright foolish, love he has for her. Similar to a servant, he’s often beckoned by Dorothy from another room as she shouts throughout the house, “Sean!”. And yet, even when she belittles and disrespects him without knowing what he’s done to protect her fragile state, he still loves her, fights for her and covers her sin — even defending her to others in the house of her goodness.
As it turns out, marriage isn’t complete without it’s acts of servitude for one another. Albeit, we do it quite imperfectly but even still, the fact remains it’s an undeniable facet of marriage. The United Two don’t refer to each other as their servants but rather as friends, and more than that, bride and groom. And thus, we may find our problem isn’t with the word “servant” itself but rather the way we’ve defined such a term.
Jesus himself declared us not servants of God but rather friends of God (Jn 15:15). As Chad Bird has put it, we are ones who know his will and desires, he’s laid his cards on the table for us. And if anyone seems to be the servant, wouldn’t it be God himself? He came to serve not be served. If we, the lost sinner, are given abundant grace in the form of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection on a silver platter to be enjoyed, are we not the ones sitting at the table being served? The language is bizarre, surely, to think of God as our servant. But conversely, imagine the baffling scene of declaring one’s self a servant of God while God in the flesh washes your feet. This is not to be mistaken for God serving us our best life now, no, indeed it is not so.
But if the terminology of “servant” can’t be applied to God then what else do we call this table we sit at called Earth where reality is dished out to us by none other than the maître d’ of God. From Genesis and on, God has served humanity with creation, incarnation and then of course, his resurrection. Scripture contains an assortment of parables utilizing banquets, weddings and great celebratory feasts to paint the picture of God’s kingdom. These events which not only require guests but guests to be served. All the while we’ve sat gazing at our navels, unaware we are the receivers of such a fine service. So, we partake of his offering, a table with plates and utensils galore, and only hope that we could imitate such servanthood to those around us — with full bellies as we do so.
A friend serves others not from a sense of debt due or piety maintenance needed, but out of genuine desire to do so. To be a servant of God is not to be trudging around Earth with an anvil on your back. It’s not to be beaten down and broken, longing to be something you’re not. It isn’t someone yearning for acceptance, mistaken that they could actually bring something to the table. To be a servant of God is simple: it is to be a friend of God’s. God once again flips humanity’s idea on its head: To be a servant of God is to be served by him.
In the end, we find out we are most like Dorothy. Serving ourselves, oblivious to the reality that surrounds us. Unaware of the chaos we cause and the sins we bear — other times painfully aware. All the while, God continues to serve us his good news. For to be a servant is to obey the will of someone else and if that will is for you to receive the serving of said master, then the point is moot. It’s an oxymoron to be a servant of God. It turns out the only way to be a servant of God is for him to serve you himself first. So, put your napkin in your lap or don’t, just as long as you brought your appetite because God’s servants sit at the table.
